The photograph showed a handsome Rupeni Poata and a scowling Bulibasha. You can just see my face peering between the two of them. Grandfather was annoyed that he was mentioned after Rupeni Poata and that it was Rupeni whose sporting exploits were mentioned.
No useful purpose will be served by describing the Gisborne and East Coast regional competitions in full, except to say that thirty gangs entered, including four from Mahana and three from Hukareka. The mayor was disappointed that not more teams had put themselves forward. His publicity stunt backfired. He had hoped that the photograph of the Mahanas and Poatas registering would encourage others. Instead, when other gangs saw we had both entered, they decided not to bother.
The shear-offs were held at the Gisborne Show Grounds. Grandfather’s entire energies went into supporting Mahana One. He had never seen Poata One shearing and, when he did so, he was alarmed at their speed. He began to crack his whip over the heads of Mahana One to encourage them to increase their speed too. Again, Grandfather was applying the age-old Mahana tactics — get out in front while you can, and stay out in front.
Public interest in the regional finals was so high that each shear-off was fully packed. Every Saturday for a month, cars and trucks turned in at the main entrance. Ticket sales increased as the regional semifinals approached. The competition appealed to the pride of the Gisborne and the East Coast citizenry — of course a Poverty Bay or East Coast team would win the coveted Golden Fleece award! After all, Gisborne was the home of the best shearers, wasn’t it?
Local bookmakers had a field day accepting bets on this shearing gang or that. The punters were favouring Poata One, Mahana One and the Lawson Syndicate, a Pakeha gang which had been specifically brought together for the competition. Suffice to say that in the finals the Lawson syndicate lost out to a Mahana and a Poata shearing gang.
Poata One, of course, led the field. Much to everyone’s surprise, however, it wasn’t Mahana One that won through but — wait for it — Mahana Four.
With the Gisborne and East Coast provincial finals behind us, the family gathered to celebrate at the homestead. The meeting was one of the largest ever. As always, the other patriarchs, Zebediah Whatu and Ihaka Mahana, were in attendance with their families. Then Grandfather Tamihana entered with Grandmother Ramona and the mood was shattered. Grandfather called Uncles Matiu, Maaka and Ruka forward into the middle of the floor.
‘I am very disappointed in my sons,’ he said. Disappointed? Grandfather was appalled that the gang to which he himself was attached had missed out. It was incomprehensible that the premier Mahana shearing gang should have lost.
Bulibasha stood up and looked down at his kneeling sons. None of them dared to look up at him. ‘What happened to you three? What happened to your shearing gangs, eh?’ His questions lashed out. Uncle Matiu flinched. ‘What happened to Mahana One! Mahana One is supposed to be the top gang. You should have been in the finals. Not Mahana Four.’
‘Ma te wa,’ Zebediah Whatu intervened. ‘It wasn’t entirely their fault. Who was to know that Mahana One and Mahana Two would draw to shear against each other in the first round? One knocked the other out. Then Mahana One had to face Mahana Three in the second heat. Same thing. The luck of the draw, Bulibasha.’
‘I don’t like luck,’ Grandfather thundered. ‘Luck isn’t going to help Mahana Four. What hope have they got against the top Poata team? Poata One is the best I’ve seen.’
The entire sitting room was startled at this admission.
‘All in the past, Bulibasha,’ Ihaka Mahana said. ‘At least we have a team in the finals.’
Grandfather Tamihana would not be pacified. He raised his left hand in a chopping motion.
‘I’m very disappointed. You’ve let me down. One of you should have got through. We should have two Mahana teams in the finals. All our best shearers are in your teams — our best wool classers, sheepos, the works. Instead Mahana Four must battle with Poata One. My constant foe is the front runner. There’s only one thing to do.’
Grandfather sat down on his throne and looked at each one of us in turn, staring us down, trying to impose his will. I would not turn away from his glance.
Grandfather laid it on us. ‘I want you, Matiu, to take over from Hone as leader of Mahana Four. Matiu, Maaka and Sarah, you three are to replace some of the members of Mahana Four.’
Thus saith the Lord. No ifs, no buts, no maybes. Trying exactly the same tactics as with the seven-a-side hockey tournament. There was absolute silence.
Grandfather looked to Zebediah Whatu and Ihaka Mahana. ‘Do you agree? You know, don’t you, that ever since I started the Mahana shearing gangs, we have always been first in the district? If Poata One wins, I will never be able to hold my head up in this province. I am not going to trust to chance. The Poata team is fast and good. They are much faster than Mahana Four. The reputation of the Mahana shearing gang rests entirely on our ability to take the crown — the Golden Fleece.’
The family, abashed, nodded in assent.
Yes Bulibasha Bulibasha basha basha asha.
‘Then it is done,’ Grandfather said.
I was sitting at the end of the room, way down by the kitchen.
‘No it isn’t,’ I said. I stood up, my head higher than the Lord of Heaven’s.
‘Let it be, Himiona,’ my father Joshua hissed.
‘Listen to your father,’ Uncle Hone added. ‘It doesn’t matter who leads the team as long as it is a Mahana team.’
I was not going to let Grandfather get away with it. ‘Mahana Four has deserved its place in the finals. It was judged to deserve that place and was given that recognition.’
‘Mahana Four got lucky,’ Grandfather said. ‘Luck will not win this competition.’
‘It was not luck,’ I answered, standing my ground. ‘Mahana Four trained hard for the provincial finals, as hard as anybody else in this room. I have to stand up for that and for the members of Mahana Four.’
‘There will be no discussion,’ Grandfather said.
‘Yes there will.’
‘Himiona,’ Dad called.
I had taken a step past my kneeling uncles. I took another step to where Zebediah Whatu and Ihaka Mahana were watching. No more would I approach Bulibasha on my knees. No more would I be subservient.
‘Why are you doing this, Grandfather? Why must you always make the world go your way? Why don’t you admit that you can be wrong? All these dictatorial commandments —’
‘Whakahihi, Simeon,’ he shouted. ‘Whakahihi.’
‘And that word,’ I continued, ‘why do you always beat me over the head with it? What’s wrong with being whakahihi? Your world is changing, Bulibasha. I’m one of the ones who is changing it.’
I paused. I took a breath. I had gone this far; I may as well go the whole hog.
‘Legally, Mahana is bound to send the same team to Masterton that won. That team is Mahana Four. The rules do not allow substitutions.’
‘Rules are made to be broken. I am the law.’
‘No you’re not. Even if you were, you are not above it. If you persist, Grandfather, the authorities will disqualify us.’
‘What they don’t know won’t hurt them.’
‘But they will find out.’
My mouth was dry. I was about to commit the ultimate heresy.
‘Tell me how?’ Grandfather asked. He was dangerous. His eyes glittered.